Saving Him
by sarah-might-be-johnlocked
Summary: John and Sherlock's lives transform when they admit their love for each other. (Johnlock)
1. The Top of the Building

If you don't think about him, he'll go away. This was a thought that circulated my head all day. This was essentially counterproductive and I just thought about John Watson even more. His smell. His smile. His laugh. Everything about him, I was in love. But he was going through so much right now. Even though he had his own house, most of his time was spent in my flat. Drinking tea and smoking...a lot. I knew he was hurting. He was fighting with his wife. His books were failures. I wanted so badly to hold him in my arms, to let his tears splash on my skin, to let him know I loved him. Alas, he was married. And he loved her so much... Then I got the call. I had been meeting with Lestrade, and John called me. Exhilarated by his personal ringtone on my phone, I answered with a "John?" "Sherlock...please. I need you. Now. The building...your death building. Come quick." Assuming the worst, I told Lestrade I had to go now, pulling on my coat and adjusting my scarf. John's voice was so pained. I hated hearing him like that. The only other time I had heard it like that was when our roles were switched, and I was standing on the top of a building, ready to jump. I drove to the building, and knew when I saw what was going on. A figure that I immediately recognized as John was standing there, on top of the building. My heart sped up and I ran to the top. "NO! JOHN!" He didn't hear me. I reached the top and he turned. I saw that his beautiful eyes were spilling over with tears. No no no nononononononono. "Sherlock...please…" I ran to him and hugged him, breathing in the smell of sweat and tears and John. "Sherlock, I couldn't help it…" "Shhhh, John. Hush. It's okay. I'm here now." I rubbed my hand across his back, his head fitting perfectly over my neck. My skin tingled at his touch. I could do it. I could say it now. "No one loves me. No one wants me. My wife hates me. My books are failures. My life is a failure. I want to die, Sherlock. You're the only one keeping me alive." I felt like in movies when someone says something and there's that gong in the background, and the character's vision goes out-of-wack and everything feels dizzy and strange. I stumbled a little, and John looked up, confused. "What? What's wrong?" he asked. I immediately shook my head, wanting this to be about him. "Nothing, it's okay. Keep talking." "I just, no one cares. So why do I keep living? Why am I living right now if no one loves me? Why shouldn't I jump off this building?" "Is that a rhetorical question?" He looked up at me, hope in his eyes. I wanted so badly to touch his face and kiss his soft lips… "Do you have an answer?" I nodded. He backed away and sat down with his back facing the London skyline. He put his head in his hands. "Do I even want an answer?" he mumbled to himself. I shivered, remembering his touch. I turned around, worried I would start to cry. I didn't want to break down in front of him. Here he was, needing someone strong and loving. I was not strong. I was cowardly. I wanted so, so bad to tell him. It was agonizing to see him here, on the verge of death, knowing that my love would mean nothing. Or would it? He admired me, I knew. He admired my incredible wit. I led him on adventures. He admired my false courage. He couldn't see through lies as well as I could. He would believe every word I said. But if I told him I loved him, would he reject it? Would he leave me here, crying my eyes out, knowing he could not, would not, ever love me? A single tear trickled down my cheek. The thought of him leaving me. "John, stop crying." "Sherlock, I don't have time for your psychopathic sh-" "No, John." I turned around. He looked up, his red face annoyed. "I love you." "Jesus, Sherlock-" "No, let me finish." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was about to say a speech I'd been practicing since I first saw him. "I love everything about you, John. If you kill yourself, I will die. I will die inside. I know you have Mary and you probably don't want my love, but it's all I can give you. I love your laugh, I love your smile, and I don't want you to die. That is literally the last thing I want. I love you, John. I want to kiss you and I want to give you everything. Please, John. Don't die." Tears streamed down my face, but I wasn't ashamed. He looked up as if he had had an epiphany. "Are you...lying to me?" John asked. His face contorted into a look of deep pain, and I rushed to him. "No, God, no, John. No, I'm telling the truth. Why would I lie to you?" He laughed and shook his head, but I felt like maybe he wasn't that happy. "That's funny, that is. 'Why would I-'" He laughed and shook his head. Confused, I saw that his face was now angry. "Do you know how many times, Sherlock Holmes? Do you know how many times you've lied to me?" "John, please. I need you." His face seemed to melt as he closed his eyes and stood up. "I need you too, Sherlock. I thought-" His voice cracked and his eyes filled with tears. He looked at the cement. "I thought that it was just one of those things. One of those cliches where you have the biggest crush on someone else and-" His voice was decimated as tears streamed down his cheeks. I embraced him and held him tight. "-and they'll never love you back. And I thought I'd get over it but-" He stopped talking and let himself go as we hugged, our bodies like puzzle pieces fitting together. "Sshhhh, John. Shhhhh." I rubbed his back and felt each tear splash onto my shoulder. "And with Mary and everything...and I really had no excuse and...but it felt so perfect being with you…" "It's okay, John. It's okay now." I could've fallen asleep like that. I could've lied down on that building and fallen asleep with him. But I couldn't. I pulled away from him. "We need to get you off this building." He smiled, and I resisted the urge to squeal at how adorable his whole face was. "Yeah, lets get off here." "I don't know how this is going to work, us being together, but I know we can make it work. I know we can be together. Because I love you." He pulled me into a long kiss, salty with the taste of our tears, perfect with the taste of our love. 


	2. Never Let Go

We sat in our apartment, facing each other.

"I can't even comprehend what we've done. I can't even begin-" John started.

"I know. Are we even going to try to make this more?"

"I just-I love Mary, too. But I love you more. And I don't want to break her heart." I nodded. This was why I had been hesitating all along. I winced, realizing that I wasn't the only person he loved.

"Does she love you?" I asked, worried about our relationship. Despite my self-declared psychopathy, I had repressed emotions.

"I…" John closed his eyes, shaking his head. "I don't. Even. Know. Anymore."

"And that's okay, is it?"

"No, Sherlock, it's not okay. We're bloody married!" I nodded solemnly, steepling my hands under my chin.

"I think I'll go to my mind palace," I decided.

"Fuck, Sher, no. Not your mind palace."

"Yes. Please. I need to think." I closed my eyes and escaped. Where would I go?

"Sherlock, we need to talk," I heard John say, interrupting my trip to the first time we met. I opened my eyes, frustrated.

"What on earth do you want?"

"I want to talk to you. What are we gonna do?"

"I have no idea, John. I just don't-it won't work. Unless you're ready to divorce Mary, and-" John closed his eyes. "I don't want to ask you to do something like that if you aren't ready."

"I'm trying to get ready. And Mary's-Mary does love me, I think. I've got no idea. And I love her and-I'm so confused."

"How do I help? How do I help you get unconfused?"

"Let me talk to you. You don't have to respond, just listen. And tell me if something doesn't make sense." I sighed.

"Fine."

"Well, if Mary didn't love me, what would she have to gain from marrying me?" I interrupted.

"Just talk to her, John! Just have a nice talk with her about love and things. I don't want to be bored by your confusion about your marriage."

"Fine," he said, standing up. "I'll go talk to her."

"Is there anything else about which you wanted to talk?" I asked, hoping there was.

"I just want to know that you're ready for this, that you want it."

"I am," I admitted. "I mean, I guess I always was. I want you to be ready, too. If you aren't, I-I don't know what we'll do. I'm so sorry for ruining it all."

"Did you just apologize?" I smirked and nodded. "The world's coming to the end, I swear." He laughed. "Okay. I'm going home. We'll...we'll figure it out." He left and I sat, contemplating and returning to my mind palace.

There he was, entering my lab as I finished with an experiment. Mike alongside him, John psychosomatically limped into my life. That limp-I cured it within days. I could've within seconds, given the correct circumstance. And when I knew most of his life story, he wasn't scared away. He was amazed. I knew right then, like I'd known with Lestrade and Mike and the few other friends I'd managed to make through the years, that he was a keeper.

After having calmed myself down, I went to my brainstorming room. There stood Brainstorm Sherlock.

"Why shouldn't we get together?" I asked him.

"Mary," he replied, his face solemn, his hands folded behind his back.

"He's sorting that out, somehow."

"Yes. Imagine the others' reactions."

"I could keep it a secret," I decided.

"That puts strain on a relationship."

"Okay, why not tell them?" I asked.

"They might be angry with John. Because he was with Mary. Imagine how angry Mrs. Hudson would be." Mrs. Hudson appeared next to him, her face mad and red.

"I don't care about Mrs. Hudson."

"Yes, you do." You can't lie to yourself, I guess.

"But if we waited a while before telling, it wouldn't put much strain on the relationship and it would seem like it wasn't immediate."

"Good, Sherlock," he congratulated. "Now what if your relationship doesn't work out? You'll be alone, again. You know how it was last time. John saved you. Who will save you then?"

"I'll-I'll make it work," I justified quickly. He laughed.

"No, don't tell me that. You know what I mean," he said, smirking.

"I will, though. I'll tell John that I can't live without him...he wouldn't leave me..." I closed my eyes, knowing it wasn't enough. What would I do without my love?

"No, Sherlock. YOU IDIOT!" His voice echoed around the room as the room spun. I opened my eyes, cringing, escaping my mind palace.

I heard John's footsteps on the stairs and wondered why he was back so early. Then I saw that the clock read 1:00, two hours after going to my mind palace. How could I spend so much time there? Love clouds your mind, I guess. You have time to stop and think and empathize.

"How'd it go?" I asked.

"Absolutely awful," he replied, stepping into the room. I turned.

"Why? What happened?"

"I got home, she wanted to forgive me. I asked her if she really loved me, if our marriage was going to work. She-" He stopped, sitting next to me on the couch and curling into my frame. Awkwardly, I cradled him, and it slowly got less awkward as we adjusted to each other's bodies. "She looked so guilty, Sherlock. Like she was hiding something. So I asked her if she was hiding something and she-she-Sherlock, we were never married." I was startled by the sudden plot twist.

"What?"

"She hired people, forged signatures, and staged our legal marriage. We never went to a real courthouse...we were never legally married."

"I guess you're unhappy about this?" I inhaled his minty aftershave scent.

"Fuck, Sher, of course I am! Why would she-how could she-she said it was for our safety. Because if she had to run away again...our marriage would hold her back. _I_ would hold her back." He sobbed into my chest, and I didn't know how to comfort him. After all, this was great news for me.

"She wasn't good enough to see you for who you are...because you are the most beautiful, loyalest, the friendliest, the kindest, and the smartest idiot I know," I said, telling the truth. He looked up at me.

"I love you, Sher. We'll get this sorted and we'll be together, I know it. We'll live the best life. I'll never let go."

_**A/N: This turned out to be angsty and fluffy at the same time. I have no idea where it's going, but it's going somewhere. Once school starts up again I might not be writing very often, but I'll try to when the opportunity arises. Until then, sayonara :)**_

_**Sarah**_


	3. Free At Last

**_A/N: Hey! First day back from spring break...I won't be writing as much but hopefully I'll be updating a small chapter every day or every other day. Honestly, I'm making it up as I go. I'm so tempted to give it a terrible ending...we'll see...*cackles*. Anyways, this one is from John's perspective. Also, some was written on my phone so it may have gotten messed up for some reason...Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show..._**

* * *

My life was getting really confusing.

Everything was in a middle-ground area-my marriage, my relationship with Sherlock, my _life_ even...everything was between good and bad, between lovers and friends, between Sherlock and Mary, between gay and straight, _between. _

I didn't want it this way anymore. I wanted to say that I was in a healthy relationship, that I had my life sorted. I guess that can't really happen, especially with a life like mine. It didn't seem fair, but life isnt fair, I suppose.

I wanted so badly to separate from mary. It wouldn't be so hard to now, what with us not actually being married. The thought infuriated me, but I knew that it would make the whole Sherlock thing much easier.

Sherlock...when we had been able to cuddle, comfortably, I had almost melted. I realized how well we fit in each others arms. It had felt natural, warm, and real. But each moment that happened, I felt guilty because mary and I were together. I was cheating on my wife, and I hated myself for it almost as much as I loved Sherlock.

almost. key word.

Because no matter how guilty I felt, Sherlock was my everything. I was willing to do anything to be able to stay with him. I would see through separating from Mary, I would do anything.

* * *

"Do you want to separate?" I asked Mary. I was sat across from her at our dinner table. No matter how little I wanted to be there, it was for Sherlock. She nodded.

"It'll be easy, now. Now that you know," she said.

"I-what will we tell people? They'll...they'll be heartbroken," I replied.

"We'll...we'll tell them it didn't work out, and we got a nice, quiet divorce." Her pastoral mien infuriated me.

"Why are you so calm?! We're getting a divorce!" She closed her eyes, frustrated. She was acting like I was kid.

"You're acting like a child, John." When she saw my angry face, she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I just...I should've known you couldn't handle me." Back with the condescension.

"I couldn't handle you?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She steepled her hands under her chin and closed her eyes, in an infuriatingly Sherlock-like manner.

"I'm sorry. I always just say the wrong things at the wrong time and people go crazy, and-" I laughed.

"So it's my fault, now? No, _you_ don't know how to speak!" I laughed, the sound strained, and more like choking than a chuckle. She shook her head.

"John, this is just an example of why we aren't staying together. Just leave, if you want! Get out! Pack up all your stuff and go to Sherlock's. Your _boyfriend_ probably misses you. Go ahead, I don't care. Just come when I'm not around. I hate being with you." Her words seemed to slap me in the face. I felt sick to my stomach as she stood ("I'm going to work") and left.

Was this getting better or worse?

* * *

I packed up some clothing and other necessities that weren't at 221B, and took them there. Sherlock was glad to see me.

"I'd greet you in a more loving manner, but Mrs. Hudson is downstairs," he whispered.

"Okay, well, Mary threw me out," I told him. He looked happily surprised, which I ignored. "I assume I'm welcome here?"

"Whichever bedroom you want. Mine if you want," he flirtily whispered. I blushed.

"I'll take my old one, thanks." Dragging the suitcase to my room, I looked around and realized how little it had changed. Admittedly, I had expected to find that he had converted it into some sort of lab with various body parts and deadly chemicals. But it was just the same, with the bed, drawers, nightstand, a closet, and a door into the bathroom I shared with Sherlock. It was familiar, and for the first time in forever, I felt like I had a home.

After unpacking, I walked into the living room to find Sherlock lying on the couch in a very mind palace-like position. I turned on the telly and saw a news reporter telling me about an intentional explosion in Oxford.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"Thinking. Shoo." Unfazed, I looked at him in his beauty.

"And what, may I ask, are you thinking about?"

"You. Leave me alone."

"Sher, seriously. Mary kicked me out, and we-we can finally be together," I said. He opened his eyes.

"That hadn't quite hit me. John, we can be together! We can finally be together!" He jumped up and twirled me around the room. I knew how he felt. All of my dreams, my impossible, suppressed dreams, were coming alive. My guilt for being in love with Sherlock was relieved. I was free.

"Sherlock, do you dance?" He looked surprised at the question.

"Yes, when I was young. I remember it," he replied, looking up and accessing the memory. I walked to the radio as he did this and turned on a today's hits station. He chuckled. "No, John turn on a classical one. I like those much better." I obeyed and a quick, intense orchestral waltz came on. He bowed. "May I have this dance?" I bowed in response.

"Yes."

We waltzed around the room. He was graceful and fluid in his motions, and I followed his footsteps. We waltzed around the room and I closed my eyes, imagining a ballroom in which we could dance along with everyone else. In which there were no homophobic twats, no one wondering where Mary was. We were both free.

After the song ended, I watched telly and Sherlock left to his mind palace, and all I could think was: _that man over there, he's my boyfriend._

* * *

_**A/N: Sorry for not having posted in forever! What with school and all that will occur pretty often. Sooo...sorry! And pllleeeaaassseee review. They help me to improve and motivate me to continue. They are beautiful rainbows and chocolate and Sherlock to me...so a lot!  
**__**I'm listening to Doctor Who score on Spotify ("I Remember You" in case you were wondering). If you don't already watch Doctor Who YOU MUST! **_

_**Okay I'm done. Byyyeee.**_

_**Sarah**_


	4. Mrs Hudson

_**Heyyyy! This story is set a little while after John and Mary are "divorced." So...um...enjoy!**_

_**(P. S. I'm American so sorry for any Americanisms I make.)**_

* * *

Sherlock leaned against the white counter, taking deep, slow breaths. "John?!" Footsteps signaled his boyfriend's arrival in the kitchen. "John, I feel so awful."

"What? Why?" John's voice was careful and concerned.

"My stomach...is about to explode!" Sherlock jabbed at the pain in his abdomen. It wasn't pain-no, discomfort. Discomfort of disproportionate levels.

"Um...any other symptoms?" John was used to Sherlock overdramatizing illness. Still, he had to worry.

"My head is also going to explode! And there is _mucus_ _coming from my nostrils._" Sherlock was particularly annoyed by this fact. It was a hinderance, and he was constantly sniffling and breathing through his mouth, which was dangerous for experiments. John sighed.

"Let me take your temperature, alright?" Sherlock nodded and John left to get a thermometer. When he came back, Sherlock had wrapped a paper towel around his head ninja-style. "What are you wearing on your head?"

"It helps the pain. Take my temperature." John stuck the thermometer in Sherlock's ear and wasn't surprised by the result.

"Hundred and two. Go to bed, mister." Sherlock protested.

"I have to stay out here. My-my experiment." John shook his head.

"Go to bed. I'll make soup or something. And do we have any meds for this?" Sherlock looked confused as he walked to his bedroom.

"Medication? We don't have any medical things. I thought you would have gotten some."

"Nope. I'll go to the store. Need anything?"

"A bucket, in case. My phone. Your laptop. Tissues. Food," Sherlock listed out. John walked out of the bedroom.

"I'm getting tissues, your phone, and a bucket."

* * *

John came back from the store to find that Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen, making soup. He immediately protested, but Mrs. Hudson told him off.

"I know, I know, I'm only your landlady, but I felt so bad for Sherlock. He was hungry and you didn't get him anything to eat," she scolded.

"How was I supposed to know he hasn't eaten in a few days?"

"Two," Sherlock called from the bedroom. John rolled his eyes.

"Sorry about that. Thanks so much for making the soup." Mrs. Hudson nodded.

"Oh, and may I use your loo? The one downstairs is clogged."

John nodded and took the medication out of the bag slowly, along with some fruit and antibiotics. He walked into Sherlock's bedroom, meds in hand. "How are you doing?"

Sherlock was curled up in a tent of blankets, with his phone in his hand and a tissue box in the other. He looked cute, like a little kid. "Sick."

"Yeah, yeah, well I got you some fever medicine and cough syrup. And some antibiotics."

"I don't want to take them," Sherlock said. Surprised, John protested.

"You want to get better, right?"

"Not particularly."

"God, Sherlock, I'm not your mother and you won't have to go to school tomorrow. You'll be able to do your experiments and solve crimes and things. Just take it."

"It'll taste bad though! And I'm fine here, in bed. It's comfy," Sherlock explained. John sighed with frustration.

"Just take the syrup! Do you want a reward, am I gonna have to bribe you so you'll take it?" John, caught up in his anger, didn't notice what Sherlock was doing until he pulled him in for a kiss. John kissed him back, pushing him back into bed, and they held there with their lips pressed together for a while until Sherlock broke and grabbed the cup of cough syrup. He was about to take a sip when...

"I knew it," came Mrs. Hudson's voice from the doorway. John swiveled and saw her there, leaning against the wall. She was smirking.

"I'm-Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock's voice took on a formal, protective tone as he sat up in bed and laid against the pillow, upright, and blushed brightly.

"It's fine, it's fine, I just didn't expect to walk in on you two snogging. I mean, I thought it would happen, but I never_ expected_ it," she said casually. John, shaking and embarrassed, started measuring out medicine and clearing away tissues and food scraps.

"We're very sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I'll-I'll go," John stuttered, futilely attempting to leave.

"John, we need to talk with Mrs. Hudson about how we're going to do this," Sherlock said seriously. "I'm very embarrassed, Mrs. Hudson, but I feel we were going to tell you anyway." John shook his head and turned, readying himself to face Mrs. Hudson.

"It's really okay, boys. I just hope this wasn't going on when Mary and John were married." The two men shook their heads quickly. "How long has this been going on?" Quickly, Sherlock answered, to keep John from saying anything stupid.

"We just yesterday realized our feelings for each other, honestly. Thank you for being so accepting."

"Sherlock Holmes, did you just thank me?" Mrs. Hudson smiled. "John's doing good things to you." John stood there uncomfortably as Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson bantered. Eventually, she left and the lovers stood there awkwardly.

"'_Thank you for being so accepting,'" _John mimicked. They both chuckled.

John was glad, eventually, for this encounter. Although it had been awkward and uncomfortable, Mrs. Hudson had been accepting and they hadn't had to keep it a secret from her any longer. They were both embarrassed, sure, but they could live their full lives now with Mrs. Hudson around them.

(Well, maybe not their full lives. But that's another story altogether.)

* * *

_**Thanks for reading! This was fun to write honestly. I always figured Mrs. Hudson was a Johnlock shipper...I mean, come on. Having those two men living up the stairs would be so frustrating. You know, before she saw them snogging.**_

_**So yeah. PLEASE REVIEW! I love reviews so friggin' much. Well, bye y'all.**_

_**Sarah**_


	5. Goodbye!

This entire thing is simply to explain to you what I will be doing next. I'm doing a series of short stories about how John and Sherlock slowly come out to the public and _YOU'RE INVITED!_ But seriously. I'm going to end Saving Him and just do those short stories. Also, I have another story that's a Percy Jackson/Sherlock crossover thing with Johnlock...so go check it out! Thanks so much to all of you who have been reading this stuff...it's pretty crazy to think that I have _six whole followers_ and _seven whole favorites_. It may not seem crazy to some of you but I'm new to this shiz and Saving Him was my first story...

Anyways, thanks. And go check out my new story which I will be starting very soon. It will begin with the story of them telling Mrs. Hudson and just build up around their friends and each chapter will be a new person or group of people...stay tuned!

Ok I'm done rambling now. Bye everyone!

Sarah


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